


Heart's ache

by darlingpanfanfic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: (but if you wanna think of him that way and still can imagine him being with Wendy, Darling Pan - Freeform, F/M, Peter's POV mostly, Peter’s not supposed to be Rumple’s father here or in my headcanon, feel free to read this anyway you like)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-18 00:04:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2328005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingpanfanfic/pseuds/darlingpanfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Pan always gets what he wants.<br/>Almost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart's ache

**Author's Note:**

> Because I needed Pan to pine after Wendy for a change.

 

Not getting what he wants is not something he’s familiar with.

It goes against everything Neverland is.

No one there is gonna to tell you no.

_If you believe it, you can make it happen._

He wishes  and things just… are.

 

Wendy is an entirely different matter, _of course_.

But that’s not even what really bothers him.

It’s the realization that he _does_ want her.

Always had and he’s too terrified to even _think_ that maybe, he always will.

Admitting it, when every fiber in his body rejected even the mere idea of it, was the trickiest part.

But there was no way out of it.

 

He watched as she adjusted to the life he decided for her.

He wanted the boys to be happy, to have a mother.

 _He_ could have a mother too.

And Wendy was just perfect for that.

 

It was in front of his eyes every single day.

 

In the way she read the little boys stories before going to bed.

Would she read to him too if he asked ?

In the way she was sitting under a tree sewing their clothing.

Would she sew his clothes for him too?

 

And then, slowly something crept into his chest, screaming, making him realize that’s not what his heart yearned for.

Not _just_ that. 

He wanted her to himself in a way no other boys could have her.

In a way that wasn’t like a mother, but like a… _wife_.

And that just couldn’t happen.

He _ordered_ it didn’t happen, but for the first time the island didn’t bend to his wishes.

Simply because he couldn’t bend his _heart_ to his wishes.

 

* * *

 

 

He wanted to _destroy_ her.

Crush her into dust between his fingers, watching her slipping away, and finally get free of her for good.

But…

Crushing hearts was not his style.

He likes to rip shadows, watching as his victims struggle to keep it attached to their body until they can’t take it anymore and they fall to ground, lifeless.

And he can’t stop himself from wondering if crushing her would feel like crushing his own heart.

 

She asked him to let her go countless times.

She’s his prisoner, but she’s the one who keeps having him in her grasp.

She’s not aware of any of it.

And things are gonna stay that way until he finds a way to fix them.

 

He got all the time in the world but the truth is, he’s never been good at fixing anything.

Break, rip, _wreck_ , for sure, but fixing? Not really.

And fixing his heart or whatever happened to it...

He doesn’t even know where to start.

 

* * *

 

 

The night is his favorite moment. The boys are always having fun around the fire and he likes to play for them.

But he’s not playing tonight.

He doesn’t need to hear the music, the only thing he wants to get lost would never be anyway.

His _heart_ would never get lost.

She found it.

Well, she found a piece, while the rest bleeds unbearably inside his chest.

 

He looks up and his eyes meet hers across the fire.

The flames burns fast, dancing in the air.

His fingers tighten around his pipe, his chest constricts, his stomach flutters.

And his heart beats in an odd rhythm.

It skips some beats, _misses_ something.

And with some sort of melancholy mixed with a well-known hatred, he wonders how on earth he got used to _that_.

 

Maybe he should give his heart to her. His _whole_ heart.

Maybe she’ll know what to do with it. Maybe she’ll know how make that… aching stop.

She always seems to know things he has no idea about, things he doesn't _care_ about.

But, he could _not_ care about his own heart?

 

It’s like she’s holding it anyway. No, not really holding it.

She took that piece, just that piece, and every time he looks at her he remembers that something is missing.

She calls him cruel, a monster, but she’s no innocent.

She did that to him.

He watches her and he…  aches and… she doesn't know _anything_.

And she _cannot_ know.

 

Wouldn’t it be easier to just walk towards her and ask her to dance? It could be Saturday night, if he decides it to be, couldn’t it?

Wouldn’t it be easier to just her take her hand and show her all the things she wanted to see?

_Fairies, mermaids, pirates._

And not standing there, overwhelmed by all the other things he can’t –won’t _,_ _won’t_ \- give her.

Wendy drops her gaze but Peter stares and stares and _stares_ until he has to look away too, because his eyes burn.

His _heart_ burns.

And still, it keeps beating in that wrong pace.

And still, it keeps skipping some beats.

 

 

Wouldn’t it be easier to just grab her and… what’s that grownups did? _Kiss_ her?

No. No. That would be abomination. The _destruction_ of his entire being.

So, he doesn’t do anything.

He stands still, keeps sitting in his log, arms and legs frozen.

Because this way, he can pretend he’s in control.

And if he can pretend -the last hope he clings to- he can pretend to win that game too.

And if Wendy doesn’t look back at him, he’ll never have to face what his heart does anyway.

He has _lost_ since the beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> Every subtle and not so subtle reference here is from Barrie’s book, just FYI.


End file.
